


Rising of the Moon

by DelusionsbyBonnie



Category: Battle for London in the Air (Roleplay)
Genre: Gen, Parasol Protectorate AU, werewolf!Andrew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie/pseuds/DelusionsbyBonnie
Summary: Ireland, 1798.  A year of rebellion and upheaval, both political and personal.This is the story of how Liam and Andrew O'Rourke became secret werewolf nationalist freedom fighters.





	1. Irish Ways and Irish Laws

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Colonized Confederation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132864) by [closetcellist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist). 



"Saints and angels!" Andrew gasped, grinning. "That was close."

"We're not safe yet," his brother murmured, peering out from the alley. "And... go!"

The two men darted across the intervening cobbles into the next alley, and with an ease that belied its weight, Andrew pulled the extending wood ladder down from the window while Liam kept watch on the alley's mouth. It unfolded with a soft clatter, then groaned as Andrew pulled himself up with his brother close behind. Kelly was waiting to pull them into the house, his smile easy and reassuring. 

"Well done, lads. Got it?"

Liam nodded, patting his breast pocket as Andrew secured the ladder once more. Kelly grinned at the crinkle of paper only his supernaturally keen hearing would have picked up and nodded down the hall. "Himself is waiting for you. Andrew, join us in the kitchen for a pint?"

Liam knocked at the Alpha’s office door as Andrew obediently followed the Beta down the back stairs, stepping over O'Toole's wolf form sprawled carelessly across the cool tile. He took a seat at the table next to Emmet, and O'Connelly slid him a glass. 

"Got the papers, then, did you? You and that brother of yours." The claviger smiled. "Go on, tell us about it."

Andrew took a long swig. "Did all right, didn't we? Had a close call with the constables, but Liam can talk his way out of anything."

"Still can't talk his way into a bite," Phelan quipped.

Kelly frowned. "That's no joke, Phelan."

"Sorry, sir." The young claviger ducked his head.

Kelly smiled wryly. "It's all right, lad. We just... You don't remember the last time he tried the bite. It didn't end well, and there are precious few of us as it is."

O'Connelly nodded solemnly, and the room was silent for a moment until O’Toole cracked a bone open with a snap that made everyone jump. Phelan laughed sheepishly, and the conversation slowly picked back up. 

They were discussing the merits of pikes against possible werewolf counterattack when there came a loud thump and a cry from upstairs. Kelly and O’Toole vanished up the stairs, and the other men followed as quickly as they could. 

When Andrew reached the Alpha’s office, he found a scene of chaos. O’Domnhaill was wiping blood from his mouth, and Kelly was supporting a bewildered-looking man with a wolf’s ginger-toned head. O’Toole crouched beside them, ears and tail low.

“Saints be praised,” Emmet breathed. “Liam O’Rourke, Alpha.”

The ginger wolf pricked his ears and whined softly.

“Come on, Liam, up you get,” Kelly murmured. “That’s it. Down to the kitchen. We’ll get you something to eat.” He supported the taller man down the stairs, and Andrew followed closely. Liam’s ears swiveled, adjusting to his newly-sharpened hearing as Kelly pushed him gently onto a bench. “Andrew, bring meat. Lots of it.”

Andrew ducked his head and stepped into the pantry. There was a side of mutton hanging near the door, so he heaved the whole thing onto the table in front of his brother, who fell on it like he hadn’t eaten in days. Andrew hovered nearby, concern etched across his face, until Kelly pulled him away.

“We’ll take care of him, lad. There’s nothing you can do now.”

“Jaysus, don’t say it like that. Sounds like he’s dead.” Andrew forced a smile, still shaken by the amount of fresh blood on Liam’s shirt.

“It’s a nasty thing, to be sure. But damned if Liam O’Rourke isn’t stubborn enough to be the first one in fifty years to survive it. Here, Emmet! Take Andrew for a drink, will you? I’ve got to see to Liam.”


	2. Twenty Men from Dublin Town

Liam tossed the letter onto the kitchen table and rubbed his forehead. “Bad news. Napoleon has decided that Egypt is more interesting than Ireland. There will be no full-scale invasion.”

“Egypt?” Phelan’s face was a picture of disbelief. “What the devil is in Egypt?”

“Besides most of Boney’s army?” O’Connelly quipped, subsiding under a glare from Liam. His status in the pack was hard to pin down, a sort of vice-Alpha in his authority, but not by any title. Still, that seemed fitting, considering their democratic ambitions. Liam carried himself as a natural leader, and Kelly had needed to smooth over several snarling conflicts between the young wolf and the old Alpha. It made for constant work, and Kelly for one was relieved when the old man had decided to take O’Toole and go down to Wexford, leaving Liam and the Beta near Dublin. 

The news from France had been a blow, to be sure, but with decisive action and support from the Irish themselves, they could still succeed. Liam had been against Napoleon’s involvement from the beginning, considering the man a bloody-handed tyrant, but he had bowed to the Alpha’s will in the matter, especially considering the success the Americans owed to French support. 

“Can we expect any help from the French, then?” Emmet asked, frowning.

“Naval raids along the coast, maybe, but nothing so grand as we hoped,” Kelly replied.

Liam’s shoulders squared. “The people of Ireland will rise up and see the tyrant off themselves. We’ll have no emperor to bow and scrape to, no more than we’ll have a king.”

“Or a Church,” Kelly murmured. “The letter to our man in Ulster--”

“I’ll see to it,” Liam said impatiently. “They should know we owe no loyalty to Rome.”

“You and I, no, but how many others still do? We cannot afford any more infighting.”

Liam gestured to the small group of men seated around the kitchen table. “We are united in aims and deed. ‘Tis part of the very name of us! United Irishmen, orange and green alike. We’ll not let any man, English, Roman, or French, drive us apart.”

Kelly surveyed the table, feeling the full weight of his immortal years as Andrew beamed up at his brother. It was hard that one brother would grow old and the other would not, but they were both too young to have thought about that now. As it was, Andrew would follow Liam into the jaws of hell, and the elder O’Rourke was earning the trust and loyalty of the rest of their little band of clavigers too. He certainly had a gift for speeches, but would he prove to be as wise as he was clever? Kelly could only hope.


	3. The Wearing of the Green

Phelan burst into the library, papers fluttering from the table at the force of his entry. Liam and Kelly looked up sharply as he panted out, “Martial law!”

“What? Where?” Liam demanded.

“Here-- Dublin.” Phelan waved aside Kelly’s concerned presence. “Someone found out-- they’re rounding up leaders. They’ve got Nevin, Murphy, Tracy…”

“Hannegan?” Kelly asked as Andrew and the other clavigers crowded around the doorway.

Phelan nodded. “Raids. They know.”

O’Connelly murmured a curse. Andrew’s eyes were fixed on his brother. “What’re we going to do, Liam?”

Liam stayed silent for a long moment, staring down at the table. Finally, he took a long breath. “O’Connelly, I need to you to take a letter to Lord FitzGerald. Kelly, is it me or you that will go to the O’Domnhaill?”

“I think it’s best to be me.” Kelly had already begun to strip down. “I’m stronger in daylight. Liam… do what’s right.” He squeezed the taller man’s shoulder briefly, then shifted and darted from the room.

Liam sat and began to write. The clavigers watched silently as he sealed and addressed the letter, and then handed it to O’Connelly. “Go with God.”

The man nodded and left. Liam turned to the rest of them. “They still don’t know where we are, then, or they’d have swept the place with a company of redcoats and a Sundowner. We need to keep our heads down as much as we can while still lending our aid where it’s needed. We don’t move until Kelly brings word from the O’Domnhaill.”

“Do we keep our eyes open still?” Emmet asked, frowning.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to bring attention to yourself. If the English don’t know about the pack, then we do nothing to change that until we have word from himself.”

There was a murmur of assent as the rest of the clavigers dispersed, leaving Andrew alone with his brother.

“Liam, are you worried?”

Liam looked up sharply, his normally clear blue eyes muddied into a greenish hue. “Worried? I--” He cut himself off, took a breath, and continued. “Yes, Andrew, I’m worried. I want to do the right thing, but fighting for our country is going to get men hurt, and some of those men will probably be our men, men who trust me to make decisions for them.”

“I trust you, Liam.”

“I know, Andrew.”


End file.
